Even Evil
by The Goliath Beetle
Summary: Whether she likes it or not, Master Cyclonis is sick. A sort of character-study, with humor so subtle that it's barely there.


Even Evil

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**A/N: Pardon that terrible title. This story's concept was concevied yesterday, when I, due to the weird weather, got sick. My friend, trying to console me, said, "It's okay. Even evil people fall ill sometimes," with a smirk on his face. I found the idea ticklish, and so I had to write this down.**

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There was something extremely _safe _about cuddling under an enormous blanket on a cold and rainy day. Master Lark Cyclonis hadn't even bothered to open her eyes. She could hear the storm outside her closed window. The weather was charming, with monstrous dark-red clouds wrecking havoc to the tar roads. If it kept pouring like this, puddles and potholes would quickly form, and that would be one more thing she had to worry about.

But no matter. Lark still liked the weather. Especially now that she was inside, totally dry, and half asleep. She guessed it was eight in the morning. She was never this late in waking. Her head hurt a little. She ignored it. Pure exhaustion and laziness kept her eyelids sealed shut, and she snuggled deeper into the blankets to protect herself from the chill.

Chill.

Suddenly, her eyes flashed open. It wasn't supposed to be this cold. Her room had a weak Blazer crystal that she used as a radiator, as it was too pathetic to do anything else. What in Atmos had happened to that? Did it die out sometime at night? She thought she would have seen a crystal burn-out coming. There were always ways to predict these things. She turned her head around to the other end of the room. The dim red glow of the Blazer told her that the radiator was in perfect working condition.

For a moment, she considered the weather. But even so much rain would hurt the room's central heating. That's when another odd sensation gripped her.

Heat.

What in Atmos...? This tug of war between hot and cold made her uncomfortable, and now she was fully awake. Pulling the blankets closer still, she closed her eyes. The headache had increased. Just great. She had things to do, terras to conquer, weapons to build.

In short, _she couldn't afford to be ill. _

Lark Cyclonis quickly sat up, pushing the lovely warmth of the blankets off her. Her head spun for a moment. Darn it, this wouldn't do. No more lollygagging. It was time to get up, get decent, and get to work.

She happened to glance at herself in the large mirror facing her bed. She didn't like what she saw. Her usually beautiful face looked worn and tired-(perhaps, she thought, it was because she'd just woken up. Not because she was hosting a bit of a temperature)-her maroon night clothes made her skin look paler than usual. It was a sleeveless gown, so she shiverred a bit.

_Come on, Lark_, she told herself, _this will not do._ "I'm Master Cyclonis," she spoke out loud to no-one in particular. Her voice was rough and speaking made her cough. Still, she repeated, "I'm Master Cyclonis, and I will not be beaten by a slight flu."

Her enormous, steel-grey and gloomy red room echoed her voice, and reminded her of exactly how tired she sounded.

Bloody cold.

The rain roared some more, as though laughing. Cyclonis took this as an insult. How dare the weather mock her? She was better than the weather. She was better than Atmos. She was better than everything, and she would not be taunted at.

It was with this mindset that she stood up, swayed a little, and then gained her footing. It was time to get ready. She took a set of her day clothes and went to the en suite bathroom. She had a shower that made her insides freeze, dried and dressed herself, and went back out to her bedchamber sniffling like a whiny four year old.

A runny nose too. How excellent. How fantastic. How grand.

But the shower had woken her up. She brushed her hair, lined her eyes with kohl and stared at herself in the mirror. Goodness she was pretty. Even when her eyes and nose were a bit red, and her temperature soared, she was still stunning. Can't help the way you were born, can you? Not her fault she was born with such breathtaking beauty. What can you do? Oh well.

She trudged her way to the throne room. The palace's black stone walls were even more gloomy today. She admired the rain for bringing about this effect.

The day was awful.

There were reports to read, bills to sign, war stratagies had to be discussed, and the Dark Ace suffered _another _defeat at the hands of Aerrow. He was losing his touch, or growing old, or both. Ravess and Snipe were being ingrates as usual, and all of it was aggravating her headache and fever. It was no wonder the Storm Hawks always beat them. What a bunch of sissies her generals were. Ugh.

She felt particularly moody today. Lark pushed her lunch away, as the thought of eating made her want to throw up. Only she couldn't because there was nothing in her stomach to reject. Her officers had notice this hightened irritated behavior. Whispers raged the halls about the Master being in a bad mood and to leave her alone.

Cyclonis wanted to sleep. Her body craved it. She even yawned a couple of times when that Chicken Feather fellow started complaining once more about his low position in her ranks. Yes, after the third time he'd whined about it, it had become monotonous. But yawning was usually her way of saying she was bored, not sleepy.

Sleep was for the weak. She only slept at night. To need more was pitiful.

It was finally towards late afternoon that she slunk off to her crystal laboratory. Perhaps some quiet me-time would help her feel better.

The idea was a terrible failure. The sparkling crystals did little for her headache, and her energy-deprived body protested heavily to her working. After fifteen minutes of toying with her Icer stones, she had to drop them and head straight to her room, or risk lesser beings see her faint or something similar.

Despicable. Someone as powerful, as epic as her, didn't need any added rest. She was fine. F-I-N-E.

And yet, her body begged to differ.

She glared at her reflection in the mirror, and silently noted that she looked even worse than she had in the morning. Like a corpse. Her eyes went heavy, and the bed called out to her. Lark ignored.

Stupid cold. Stupid cold. Stupid...

Even as she thought the words, she found her self sitting, then lying down, and then finally cuddling under the blankets again. It was warm and safe and lovable.

As she started to drift off, her sleep-delirious brain consoled her. Even evil fell sick sometimes, and that was okay.

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**A/N: What did you think? Thanks for reading. Please review :D **


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